


Behind Locked Doors

by Pholo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Keith is forced to reveal some personal shit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pholo/pseuds/Pholo
Summary: Pebbles sprout up between Shiro's fingers. It feels as though the dirt stretches on and on forever under his hands. Pidge heeds Lance's command, and soon she, Hunk, and Shiro are all on their knees, scratching and cutting at the earth, searching for a flash of color amidst the cool rocks and soil. “It's an impermote,” Allura explains as they dig. “A microscopic parasite that feeds on emotion. It's using Keith's memories to illicit a more powerful emotional response.”“And doesn't he hate it!” Keith says. “His anger tastes delicious.”





	1. Chapter 1

Shiro comes to, and for a moment all he sees is dirt.

Shiro grimaces. Through his visor, he can make out little kernels of debris. The color of the planet's soil could be described as “fungal pastel.”

Shiro's radio crackles once like a fuse. A groan filters through the speakers.

“Is everyone okay?” Lance asks.

Shiro's not sure. He flexes his arms. The ground shifts to accommodate the movement. Shiro's sense of up and down are righted, and he discovers that he's on his back, sprawled under a loose pile of dirt.

Shiro blinks the spots from his vision. Team Voltron quibbles back and forth over the comms: “I knew we should've stayed put,” Hunk laments. “Now we're gonna' have to climb all the way back up.”

“Hey! How was I supposed to know there'd be a friggin' landslide? I'm not a...geologist.”

“The soil was loose! I warned you!”

Pidge growls through the radio: “Guys, stop! Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“I'm bruised, but whatever.”

“Is Shiro with you?”

“No. I don't think he's out yet.”

“Quiznak.”

A rattle of rocks. “Shiro, can you hear me?”

Shiro pushes upward. A small waterfall of debris marks his ascent; Shiro's helmet breaches the soil with a puff of dirt, followed by his torso. “I'm here,” Shiro coughs, as he scrambles for purchase on the rocks. “Is everyone accounted for?”

“Here.”

“Present.”

“Ugh.”

“That leaves Keith.” At last Shiro reaches the top of his dirt pile. The ravine stretches out before him, a sea of rocks and dirt chunks. “Has anyone seen him?”

“I'm still buried,” Lance says. “So no.”

“He's not on the surface.” Shiro spots Pidge from afar; she's climbed a few steps up the cliff wall. “Are you buried, Shiro?”

“I'm up. Look to your left.”

Pidge's gaze finds Shiro's across the ravine. She lifts her hand in acknowledgement. Shiro returns the gesture, and pain shoots up his wrist. He winces. “Pidge, help dig out Lance and Hunk,” Shiro says. “I'm going to see if I can find Keith.”

“Roger that.”

The sun glares down at an angle. Pinpricks of light play across the lip of the ravine; shadows turn Shiro's armor a gunmetal grey. There are scrapes and grunts as Pidge works to unearth Lance and Hunk. The comm channel buzzes with chatter. Suddenly Allura patches through the feed:

“—All right? Voltron, are you all right?”

“Allura,” Shiro says. He makes his way along the edge of the canyon, eyes peeled for—what? A flash of red? The top of a helmet? “We're missing Keith. Can you find him?”

“Your armor is forged from metals unique to Altea. It should be easy to isolate from the surrounding soil.” There's a pause as Allura combs through her monitor. Shiro forces himself to breathe; he deliberately unclenches his hands. Then: “I've locked onto his coordinates.”

There are relieved sounds from the rest of the team. Shiro feels lightheaded. “Where is he?”

“Nearby. Turn around, and move six meters to your right.”

Shiro's footsteps are stiff. He can't help but picture Keith trapped under the dirt, alone and in pain. “What next?”

A noise crackles through the comms before Allura can reply. It's creaky like a wooden door, slow and guttural. The hair on Shiro's arms rises at the sound. The moan lingers for a long, long moment, human but devoid of sentience. Then it drops away into radio static.

There are a series of clicks, like a tongue against teeth.

“Oh,” Keith says at last. “How lovely...”

“Keith,” Shiro says, very slowly.

“Your language is so colorful! Flowery, even.”

Allura's voice is harsh over the comms. “Paladins,” she says. “Listen to me very carefully. Keep your visors down. And whatever you do, do not remove your helmets.”

“What's happening?” Lance asks. “Keith, are you okay?”

“Keith Kogane, that's right.” Keith makes a contemplative noise. “And you're Lance, aren't you? Keith's little nemesis. He doesn't hate you, you know.”

“Allura,” Shiro demands. “Where is he?”

“Two and a half meters ahead of you; roughly a meter below ground.”

Shiro rushes to the spot, rocks crackling under his boots as he runs. He ducks down onto his knees, clawing at the dirt as Keith says, “Someone's eager to find their friend. You should've seen how Keith's brain lit up at your voice...”

Hunk's comm blows out a bit as he huffs. “I'm up,” he announces, and there's a great clatter of rocks as he runs across the ravine. “I'm coming over!”

“Pidge, leave me!” Lance snaps. “Go help Shiro and Hunk!”

Keith practically purrs into the comm channel. “ _Shiro_ ,” he says, triumphantly. Shiro's throat constricts; Hunk enters his field of vision, and the two scramble to free Keith from the rocks. “Ohhhh, he does _not_ want me looking into you. He's got a locked door and everything...”

Pebbles sprout up between Shiro's fingers. It feels as though the dirt stretches on and on forever under his hands. Pidge heeds Lance's command, and soon she, Hunk, and Shiro are all on their knees, scratching and cutting at the earth, searching for a flash of color amidst the cool rocks and soil. “It's an impermote,” Allura explains as they dig. “A microscopic parasite that feeds on emotion. It's using Keith's memories to illicit a more powerful emotional response.”

“And doesn't he hate it!” Keith says. “His anger tastes delicious.”

Pidge flings a rock behind her back. “How do we get it out?” she barks.

“Oh, you don't,” Keith says. “I'm afraid you're stuck with me until orphan boy here kills himself.”

“It's lying, Keith,” Allura says. “It can't float freely outside this planet's atmosphere. Once you get back to the castle—”

“Let me guess; you'll kill me with a cryopod? Like one of those old tubes could heal a _consciousness_.”

“There!” Hunk cries—and yes, Shiro can make out a sliver of armor under the rubble. “We've got you, buddy.”

Shiro can barely keep his hands steady, his spine taut like a spring. The three paladins clear the last layer of debris from Keith's body; Keith emerges piece by piece, suit caked in dust, his visor slightly raised. The moment his head becomes visible, Shiro reaches down to comb the film off Keith's screen. Hunk and Pidge help lift Keith out of his cave; “Oh!” Keith says, as his eyes find Shiro's. “I get it now. He's in love with you, right?”

Shiro's whole world stops. The rest of the paladins are barely a blur on the edge of Shiro's vision. His eyes are locked on Keith's face.

Keith smiles. It's not an expression he should be able to make; his lips are turned up, as his cheerful tone would connote, but his eyes are wide and horrified. Shiro can feel the real Keith reaching out past his visor—can see Keith's panic under the impermote's cool mask.

“Oh, I see,” Keith says, when the paladins pause their ministrations. He tuts. “You really didn't know! Even you, Shiro—and you were there at the Blade's headquarters!”

“Keith,” Shiro manages. “Stay calm. It's only trying to get a rise out of you.”

Keith laughs at that. “'Shiro,'” he mimics, his voice a high-pitched whine, “'You're like a brother to me.' Really?"

Shiro swallows. “Turn off the comms.”

“I'm trying.” Allura sounds on the verge of panic. “They won't respond to any key commands.”

Keith, unhindered, waxes on: “He's so scared you'll leave him again, Shiro,” he drawls. “You should've seen him after Kerberos went south...Oh, how he criiiied and criiiied. Forgot to eat or drink or bathe. Stayed up all night, pouring over conspiracy theories, looking at the stars...And don't get me _started_ on the funeral.”

Allura slices through the feed: “We're coming to get you. Paladins, stay where you are.”

“Don't bring the castle!” Pidge warns. “The ground down here is unstable. You could start a major landslide.”

“Then we'll make trips on the escape pod. Shiro will accompany Coran and Keith back to the castle first.”

“Delightful,” Keith cries. He leans back on the rocks, situated between Hunk and Pidge on the ground. “It's a date.”

Hunk squares his shoulders. He's visibly shaken. “We could gag him,” he suggests.

“With what? We can't take off our armor.”

Hunk clenches his teeth. “Quiznak...”

“And then, of course, when you came back!” Keith presses on. He whistles. “How he wishes he had been there to support you, Shiro. As if it would have made any difference. He's seen the scars on your back—you think you've hidden them, but he _knows_.”

“It's not your fault, Keith,” Shiro says. He would back away, but his feet feel like they're nailed to the ground. He can smell the arena; feel the itch of dirty prison garb on his torso. “It's over now. It doesn't matter.”

“'Doesn't matter!'” Keith scoffs. “How you hate to seem vulnerable, Shiro. If you'd let him, this boy would hold onto you forever.” His tone becomes mocking, sing-songy: “He wants to chase your nightmares away...to hold you through the pain and the misery. He dreams about giving you pleasure; of _kissing every one of your scars_ until you believe you are _safe_ and _loved_...”

“Shut up!” Lance cries. Shiro can't peel his eyes from Keith's, but he can hear Lance's frantic thrashing against the rocks. “Keith, the second we get back to the castle, I swear we're gonna' pummel that thing to dust!”

Allura speaks over Keith's laughter: “The comm channels are up on my monitor! I'm turning off your radios!”

Keith makes to reply, but he's cut off. There's a tiny hiss, and the channel goes dead.

It's not complete silence. Shiro can still hear the hum of Keith's voice, but the vacuum of Shiro's helmet turns the words to fuzz. Pidge and Hunk seem to regain their composure. Pidge takes Shiro's arm and tugs him backward towards the cliff wall.

There's a deadness to Keith's eyes now; a bone-deep despair. Shiro wants to embrace him—to console him—but he allows Hunk and Pidge to guide him fully out of earshot. Keith deserves some semblance of privacy.

Keith stares after Shiro as he walks, all smiles. He doesn't appear to be able to move very far. He crosses his legs and cranes his neck up at the sky. He talks at the clouds and the rocks and the sun.

Lance appears over a mound of rocks. He stumbles, unsteady on his feet; Hunk moves to receive him, concerned, but Lance raises his hands. He's unharmed—just shaken. The four paladins gather in a clump, watching as Keith rambles to no one.

The steep angle of the sun casts fractured shapes on the canyon walls. No one bothers to dust themselves off, though they're painted brown-grey with dust. Occasionally a paladin reaches out to brace another's shoulder, to touch their back.

A slice of light hits Keith's cheek. A tear traces the line of his jaw.

Shiro wants to scream.

It takes another minute or so, but at last a new patch of shadow shifts along the floor of the ravine. Shiro looks up, and Coran emerges with valiance, flying up over the lip of the canyon on his escape pod. There's a collective sense of relief, strong enough to be felt through the air.

Coran flits to the ground, and Shiro starts forward, ready to help Keith onto the pod. He knows he shouldn't be the one to fly back with Keith, but he can't bear to stay behind. He has to be present when Keith gets back to the castle, or he'll tear himself apart with worry.

The moment Shiro's hand meets Keith's arm, Keith's mouth opens. He chatters at Shiro with manic glee; Shiro does his best to tune him out, though he catches the occasional phrase.

_Love...disgusted...pathetic..._

“It's gonna' be okay, Keith,” Shiro says. They're close enough that Keith should be able to hear him past his helmet. "As soon as you're out of your pod, we'll work this out."

It's the only time Shiro speaks on the trip back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's this note at the end of my word document that says, "In afterword, talk about  
> shoosh." I have no memory of "shoosh"...  
> Hold on; I talked to my roommate. Apparently I asked him what I should call the mind parasite, and he suggested "shoosh" from Nanalan. So...there you go. Mystery solved?
> 
> [My Tumblr.](http://mighty-trash.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

There was no doubt a time in history when the Castle of Lions was alive with aliens of all shapes and sizes. The Alteans don't talk about the fact that their food processor has a Galra setting, or that the archives are available in over five hundred different languages, or that the castle's bedroom sizes range from “cardboard box” to “modest airplane hangar." Whatever crew manned the castle before the war was obviously as diverse as the universe was wide—but ten thousand years later, the Altean's once-crowned fortress floats hollow amongst the stars, reduced to a crystal ghost town.

Normally, Shiro doesn't dwell on the history of the castle. Voltron's mission makes him feel bigger than the space around him. Now, with Keith out of commission, there's no grand purpose to distract Shiro from the castle's dark mood. The halls ring at a single set of footsteps. The vaulted ceilings reach up and up towards the heavens like laced fingers. There's a thinness to the air that curdles Shiro's stomach.

Shiro looks up, seated on the stairs of the infirmary, and thinks about how small he and his teammates are. A person could just as easily die from a bad trip down the stairs as a sword through the heart. It's almost paradoxical, how Voltron can be so powerful and so vulnerable at the same time.

From his spot on the stairs, Lance sighs.

“What should we say when he wakes up?” he asks. His jacket droops on his shoulders. “Should we just...pretend like nothing happened?”

Lance doesn't ask the more pressing question—whether or not Keith will be _Keith_ again when he wakes up. Hunk opens his mouth to suggest something, then thinks better of it. He looks to Shiro for guidance—but Shiro's not their leader right now. At this moment Shiro is Keith's closest friend first and foremost—and like everyone else, he's out of his depth.

The silence lengthens. Shiro runs his hand through the hair on the back of his head. He says, “I don't know,” because he doesn't.

Allura's gaze flutters up from the central monitor. There are pictures on the screen. Shiro guesses they are the Altean version of brain scans. Coran, from his post at Allura's shoulder, leans forward.

“He's not dreaming,” Coran says. He studies the monitor. 

“Which means...?”

Allura purses her lips. “If the impermote were still alive, Keith would be having nightmares.”

“So it's definitely dead,” Lance presses. “Because it seemed pretty sure that our healing pods—”

“It was wrong.” Allura's tone is final.

“Good.” Lance wrings his hands. “That's...good.”

Another pause. Pidge looks up from her ball of chords. She'd brought some tangled wires up from her room to keep her hands busy—Shiro wishes he had something similar to tinker with. “So there's nothing to worry about,” she affirms, to the room more so than her teammates.

“No,” Allura agrees. Her fingers clench on the keypad.

They all worry anyway.

 

 

Keith emerges three hours later, eyes glazed and face pale. The door to the pod fizzes open, and he stumbles out onto the deck all at once. Keith looks like a nervous cat, fresh from under the bed; he squints up at the ceiling lights, strands of stray hair catching on his nose, and shudders once like he can shake off the chill.

It takes a moment, but at last Keith's gaze falls to the paladins on the floor, where they sit hunched and groggy along the lip of the stairs. There's an exact, obvious moment when Keith's brain catches up to his eyes. His spine goes ramrod straight, and a muscle jumps in his face where he clenches his jaw.

“Keith...” Shiro tries. Keith whips around. The other paladins twist their heads to follow the movement. A blush crawls up Keith's face; Shiro can almost see the memories scroll by behind Keith's eyes.

“Fuck,” Keith spits, and he turns on his heel.

Shiro doesn't think. He wobbles onto his feet, his mind a clutter of white noise, and starts after Keith down the hall. The rest of the paladins look on, unsure whether to follow. Allura calls out to Shiro, but he doesn't turn.

As a rule, Keith never runs away. Shiro can't remember the last time he saw Keith retreat from a conflict on his own volition. The floor under Shiro's feet feels uneven suddenly. He follows Keith to his quarters, too focused on the memory of Keith's pain and fear to consider common courtesy, and doesn't pause to knock when he reaches Keith's door.

Shiro finds Keith on the floor of the bathroom, hands bunched around the Altean version of a toilet bowl as he vomits up his lunch. He seems to be on the tail-end of a retch when Shiro enters the room; he doesn't turn, but bellows, “Don't touch me!” when Shiro steps forward. Shiro retracts his outstretched arm. He stands on the tile between the toilet and the door as Keith's back muscles spasm. Keith lurches forward a second time, and his knuckles whiten around the lip of the bowl. Another spatter of vomit hits the toilet water. The sound echoes off the bathroom tiles.

Slowly, Shiro slinks onto the floor. He doesn't make to come closer, but his eyes follow Keith as he gags.

Behind them, the bathroom door hisses closed.

For a time, Keith hovers with his face over the toilet bowl. He expels the last bit of gunk from his throat, then gasps once—twice. A wobbly hand comes up to press the flusher.

There's a soft whir, and Keith's vomit disappears down the pipes. Keith slumps, then moves to lean against the bathroom wall. He scrapes his boots across the floor, hugging his legs to his chest, and turns his face down against his knees.

Shiro waits. He senses that he needs to let Keith break the silence.

Time passes. The quiet hovers like a sickness.

It's cold in the bathroom, and Keith is still in his underarmor. Shiro notes the goose pimples on Keith's arms. Before Shiro can stand to grab a blanket, Keith says, “I couldn't do anything.”

Keith lifts his head, his hands braced around the fabric of his pants. There's a light behind his eyes, and the anger in his tone could start fires. “It made me—” Keith chokes, though the rage. “It was _in my head_ , Shiro.”

“I know.”

“Fuck,” Keith says. His hands are trembling. Then he says it again, louder: “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!”

Keith slams his fist against the floor. Shiro struggles not to reach out to him.

“You—”

“No,” Keith snaps. He takes a shaky breath. “Can we just—not. Talk about this.” He swallows. “Please.”

Shiro's heart clenches. He stays silent, and Keith glowers at the door. Shiro tracks the fitful rise and fall of his chest.

“Forget everything,” Keith orders at last, falling back against the wall. He won't look at Shiro. “It was all—everything I said. Forget it.”

_He's in love with you, right?_

Shiro rests his hands on his knees. He's only a few feet from Keith, but the distance feels galactic.

“Keith,” Shiro says, after a while. “It's fine. We don't have to talk tonight. But...”

Keith's brow furrows. Shiro summons his strength and continues with some reluctance: “The lions communicate telepathically. And you're compatible with Black.” _How you hate to appear vulnerable, Shiro._ “I think...Black could link our minds together. If I asked her to.”

Keith sits there, propped against the wall.

“I don't know how to tell you how I feel,” Shiro says. “But I think I could show you.”

Keith processes Shiro's request with a frown. As he thinks, he unbends his knees. The distance between the two paladins closes by degrees.

It's a matter of trust, Shiro knows, on both their parts. A test of Keith's belief, and of Shiro's ability to open up. Shiro worries that he's overstepped—he says, “I know you've been through a lot today—”, but then Keith exhales all at once through his mouth, and Shiro stops.

“Fine.” Keith turns his gaze to the ceiling. He curls his arms around his legs. “Do your thing.”

So Shiro extends his hand, and Keith doesn't flinch.

 

 

_Darkness, then rows of purple lights. A long scratch of fabric on polished metal as Shiro and his teammates are dragged down the hall. Fear crawls up Shiro's throat. He can smell his own sweat, and the metallic tang of blood on his lower lip. He can't lift his arms._

_I don't want to die please don't let me die here not yet_ please

_The arena, vast and purple and soiled with alien blood. Shiro ducks behind a pillar. His heartbeat clammers wildly like a rabbit's. There's a great boom as the alien's club connects with the upper half of the pillar; marble splinters catch on Shiro's skin and hair as he tumbles backwards. The alien rushes at him_

_he's on a metal table_

_“Hold him still!”_

_Shiro's hand glows like a corrupted star. Haggar peers down her nose at Shiro's arm. She wants to pull him apart and make him dance_

_Puppet_

_Shiro's dreams are yellow and violent._

_How many more times until he_

_“You've already taken my hand! What more do you want?”_

_Keith I'm sorry I can't do thisanymoreIcan'tholdonpleas—_

 

_And then Keith's voice, distant and heady:_

 

_“Shiro?”_

 

_I missed you so much I was so sure I'd lost you forever I wish I could_

_“It's good to have you back.”_

_“It's good to be back.”_

_They're on Earth. It's been a year since Shiro last saw the sun. The wind kicks up tufts of rabbitbrush from the desert plains. The bushes hum with crickets. Shiro feels Keith's hand on his shoulder and_

_don't touch me like you know me (I'm scared) you don't know what I've done you don't know how many aliens I've killed (I don't know what to do) I'm tainted I'm not who you think I am please don't look at me like that please don't look please don't—_

_The five of them are a team now. Shiro looks at Keith past his visor and he laughs. Keith smiles. Shiro wants to lean forward and—_

_Hecouldneverloveyounotlikethatstopstopstop_

_How am I supposed to lead a team like this_

_Shiro lies curled on his bunk, his shoulders taut with strain. Phantom pains trace fireworks up his arm. He blinks, and his bedroom becomes the arena, the castle generator the roar of the crowd._

_I can barely think straight get up get up get_ up _you piece of_ shit _do you actually think your problems are bigger than the fate of the_ universe _you are a soldier_ act like one

_(Keith speaks quietly over dinner, like he knows)_

_get over your stupid crush_

_(Keith dies under his hands and_

wake up _wake up you're safe you're okay breathe breathebreathe_

 _he's alive you're alive_ s t o p _)_

_The Blade's headquarters rumble as Red bashes against the walls. Keith lies on the floor, bruised and unresponsive. Shiro runs_

_nononopleasedon'tdothistome_

_(you have to know I would never walk away)_

_and a Blade member charges at Keith. Shiro pushes Keith behind him, arm raised—_

_DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM—_

 

 

Shiro's hand falters on Keith's cheek. His fingers fall away, unable to maintain the connection, and Shiro drops back on his knees with a clap of tile.

There's a long pause.

Shiro sits hunched, bent over with his palms flat on the floor. There's a barely-perceptible hiss of air as Shiro breathes through his teeth—a rattle as his metal hand quakes against the floor. The tiles gleam beneath Shiro's hands.

Shiro finds the strength to raise his head, his vision blurred around the edges.

Keith's eyes are damp and bright under the bathroom lights. Shadows darken the shapes of his face. Keith's fingers settle over his chest, then clench around his underarmor like claws.

Keith takes a wet breath. He meets Shiro's eyes, and he looks lost.

“You never said.”

Shiro swallows. He stares at Keith, his heart on display.

Keith seems to gather his courage. He shifts forward, and places his hand over Shiro's metal one. Ever so carefully, like a man on a minefield, Keith tucks his fingers between Shiro's.

Keith lets the connection rest for a while. Then he says, “You're not a monster, Shiro.”

“And you're not pathetic,” Shiro murmurs. “You're the strongest person I know.”

The smile on Keith's face is wobbly but genuine. He knows Shiro means it because he felt it.

Shiro grins. Keith snorts, and he shakes his head.

“I love you,” Keith says, tearily. Shiro raises a hand, and he brings their foreheads together. Keith nuzzles sideways so that his hair tickles Shiro's face. His eyes slip closed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

This time the words are spoken aloud, on the paladins' own terms. It's a necessary confirmation, for the both of them. Keith goes boneless, like the day has caught up to him all at once. Shiro scrambles to catch Keith before he spills onto the floor; he clasps at Keith's arms and bundles the paladin close to his chest, until he can feel Keith's heartbeat through his shirt. Keith murmurs, as his hands find Shiro's torso: “It's okay...I'm okay...”

Shiro takes a deep, relieved breath. He curls around Keith's figure as though to shield him from heavy fire.

"We're okay." 

Keith rests his temple on Shiro's collarbone. He seems about ready to fall asleep.

Shiro holds him, his chin on the crown of Keith's head, and they're free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's a wrap. Thank you guys for your support! YOU GIVE ME LIFE, I TELL YOU!
> 
> [My Tumblr.](http://mighty-trash.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This fic's Sheith songs (because I can):  
> Alright - Tow'rs  
> The Meeting Place - Hem  
> November Stars - Fly By Night 
> 
> Also, here's an exchange I had with my step-father: 
> 
> Me: Don! I need your help. I never want to make this character cry because it feels too sappy—so I need you to tell me to make him cry, or I won't be able to do it. Tell me to make him cry!  
> Don: Make who cry?  
> Me: A character.  
> Don: Well, maybe he shouldn't cry. Maybe you should just give him a stomach ache.  
> Me: But he's already thrown up!  
> Don: Then make him incontinent.  
> Me: What does that mean?  
> Don: Make him unable to stop pooping.  
> Me: [SPLUTTERS]


End file.
